Love is Insanity
by LostInTheCloudsx3
Summary: I lie to my boyfriend about being sick just to stay in and think about him; hate lists turn into love ones; I almost burn my house down in an attempt to get over him. All this could mean only one thing... I'm still in love with him. -Ni ck&Mi ley-
1. My Plans to 'Get over Nick Jonas’

**_****Miley****_**

Miley Cyrus; New Year's Resolution;  
_**Get over Nick Jonas.**_

Yeah, right.

I sighed, looking back up at the dark night sky, not a single star in sight. Exactly the way I felt: dark and gloomy.

But, you know, I really shouldn't. Not when _he_'s out there, having the time of his life with _her_ in the first row, singing along to _my_ favourite songs… songs that had been meant for _me_ to sing along to.

No.

Instead, I should've gone out with my "boyfriend" to celebrate his birthday, not lied that I was suffering with "chromic-coughing/ puking disease. Don't ask me what that is, I don't know.

But here I am, in my pajamas and bunny slippers, holding onto this itchy, purple shirt that I "hate". I only do this when I miss him. But do I _still_ miss him? How pathetic does that sound? It's been three freakin' years already!

He is not coming back to me, never. But I think the problem here is that even though I say it, I don't believe it… not yet, not ever. I somehow keep hoping that he would turn up at my doorstep clutching a bouquet of white lilies (they're my favourite, and he knows that), declaring his undying love for me.

But so far… tough luck.

Ok, I decide, I'm going to sit down and write down all the pros and cons for both boys. Pros for Liam and Cons for Nick.

Liam; Likes to call me, not text.

Nick; Likes to text. (Which I never liked, cause, well, cause if he texted me, I wouldn't be able to hear his beautiful voice—forget that.)

Liam; Doesn't cancel our dates cause he's too busy for me.

Nick; Go figure.

Liam; Doesn't mind PDA, in fact, loves it (maybe a little too much).

Nick; Go figure.

Liam; Is Australian, therefore, has a cute accent.

Nick; Go figure.

Liam; Is older and more mature.

Nick; Just two months older than me, but still is Mr. Know-It-All.

Nick; Has soft, yet wild curls that I love to run my fingers through.

Nick; Has those chocolate brown eyes that make me melt.

Nick; His kisses make me feel faint… in a very, very good way.

Nick; The way his body fits into mine like a jigsaw puzzle. So perfect.

Nick; Can make me go from mad to sad, sad to happy, happy to sad again in just one second.

Nick; Can calm me down at any given moment by just singing to me. (Which no one else has managed to accomplish.)

Nick; Can cook (Which even I can't).

Nick; Is my first love.

Nick; I love him.

I sigh, drawing a line over the page. When had my hate list turned into a love one? I was right, I am pathetic.

I am this silly pathetic little girl, so in love that I can barely even write down the things I hate about my ex without turning it into 'The Million Most Favourite Things of Mine about My Ex'.

I need to get over him, I just do! With a new kind of determination, I jump to my feet, almost slipping on my bunny slippers, might I add. I race into the kitchen, still holding onto the stupid shirt.

I look around; my eyes scan the room for a match box. Aha! There it is. I storm over to it and pick it up. Then, I place the shirt on the kitchen counter and light one of the matches up.

I pick up the shirt and bring the burning match closer to it. If you haven't figured it out by now, my first attempt to get over Nick is to burn this shirt of his that I currently cannot live without. But I'll show him; I will!

I clamp my eyes shut, not being able to watch, just leaving a little of my left eyes peeking to make sure I do nothing other than burn the shirt.

The moment the match touches the edge of the shirt, my eyes go wide. What the hell am I doing?! I panic, dropping the match and running to the sink, turning the faucet open and shoving the burnt material under it until I was sure the fire was out.

I retrieve the shirt to examine the damage. It's burnt just a wee bit… that's enough for today.

Suddenly, a loud ringing covers my ears. I look up frantically only to realize it was the fire alarm. I turned around and my eyeballs almost jump out of their sockets.

Yikes!

The carpet is burning heavily! I must have accidently dropped the lit match on it. Oh no!

'Miley, what's going on in there?' I hear my mom yelling before she dashes into the room with my dad by her side. She gasps as she surveys the burning carpet as I give them my best 'I-don't-know'what's-going-on-either' innocent look.

Half an hour later, we had finally managed to put the fire out. Thank God it hadn't spread beyond the carpet.

I have got be more careful with my 'Get over Nick Jonas' plans hereafter!

**A/N: That must have been pretty silly. :p  
It started out as a normal one-shot, but then I decided I would try a different kind of writing style. I read this book 'Shopaholic and Baby' by Sophie Kinsella; I just finished it. And it's hilarious! I think that's what inspired me.  
Anyways, I'm not so sure my attempt worked out. Did it? This is supposed to be a three-shot, so tell me if it was alright, so I can continue.**

**+ I am working on the next chapter of Remember December (for whoever reads it) but that will be posted after this is over. It was a refreshing change, writing this. It was kind of new to me. (:**


	2. I'm Still in Love With Miley Cyrus

**_****Nick****_**

"Nick, that was great!"

I plopped down on the couch, sweating nastily and gulping down a bottle of water. I let the cool air hit me, relaxing slightly.

"Nicky!" Came that overly sweet, nauseating voice again as I felt someone land on the couch next to me.

I opened my eyes, letting out a sigh, trying to hide the fact that this girl was annoying me. "What Selena?"

Her eyes shone, obviously not recognizing the tone of voice I had just given her. _Poor her… _oh-so innocent. I felt instantly guilty. Why was I doing this? All I could see during the whole concert was _her_, no, not the her sitting next to me, the _other_ her.

I even tried looking sideways a bunch of times where I could clearly see Selena, so that I would remember that I had a girlfriend now. But noooo… _she_ cannot leave my mind for even a few seconds; you know, I'd probably earn a fortune if I charged rent from her for occupying my head.

_Damn her. _

With her perfect lips and perfectly messy grin, her perfect body with all those perfect curves and her perfect eyes with the perfect amount of blue in them. And her skin, and her perfectly perfect white teeth and her perfect legs that gave me a hard time focusing on anything else, her perfect voice, her perfect weirdness, her perfect hyperness, and that perfect peace sign she goes around flashing, and her perfect—did I mention she was perfect?

Not _perfect_ perfect, but perfect for me.

**(A/N: I've typed that word so many times, I've forgotten the meaning to it! Haha. :p)**

Yes, I, Nick Jonas, am in love with my ex-girlfriend… still.

And yes, I, Nick Jonas, have a girlfriend now. Even though it sounds insanely pathetic –even to me- that I can't score more than two serious girlfriends. And that too, only one that I'm extremely serious about.

Later, I walk out of the concert arena and try to make my way over to my car. But you know, it isn't exactly easy to do that with those crowds hounding us; it probably wouldn't be this difficult if I didn't have Selena clinging to my arm as if holding on for dear life.

"Selena, I love you!" we heard someone yell from the crowd. She stopped, bringing me to a halt as well. She turned to the girl. "Aww, thanks!" There it was, that overly sweet, nauseating voice again. You know, Miley would never change her voice like that, then again, Miley couldn't care less about what the public thought of her (except her fans, of course).

She is the most dedicated person I've ever known. That had just made me love her all the more.

I wish I could forget_ her_, and accept Selena for who she is. But no, I have to keep comparing everything Selena does to _her_. And everything Selena does seem fake.

I wish I had a dose of that medicine that heals broken hearts I had read about in the newspapers last week. **(A/N: No kidding! It **_**was**_** on the newspaper.)**

I wish I could write a song that had nothing to do with her.

I wish I could delete all the pictures of us I have on my phone. (This is why I never let anyone else ever touch my phone; my friends and family are convinced that I have some sort of weird 'phone phobia'.)

Well, I also wish I had a spaceship, so I guess it doesn't exactly work that way…

I drop Selena off at her house, insisting it was way too late to go to the beach and cuddle, although it's only seven in the night.

I drive home, and step into the shower. After having abandoned my clothes, I step into the shower and turn the knob upwards, and a second later, I feel the relaxing cold water beat down my back.

"_Cold water showers are bad for your health, Nick, especially in the night… no matter how much you may love them!"_

I sigh, setting the water to hot. How come I still listen to that voice in my head after all this time? Of course, that voice in my head is _her_, and it only repeats stuff she'd said to me. See? She's got even the _voice_ in my head smitten.

I get out of the shower and put on some clothes before walking down to the kitchen since my stomach had started to grumble, and I realized I hadn't had anything to eat since lunch.

I picked up a green apple and washed it. _"Green? Really?" _There goes that voice in my head again. I roll my eyes upwards as if looking at my brain, "Can't you leave me alone for a few seconds?!" I demand the voice.

"Nick, honey, you alright?" I quickly look down to see my mom staring at me, worried. I nod my head and she looks away, but not before casting me a concerned look that read 'my son may be crazy, and I can't help it'. Psshh.

I decide to watch some TV, so I walked into the living room and sat myself down on the couch, enjoying the comfy of it. I picked up the remote only for Frankie to come running in and snatching it away from me before I could do anything.

"Frankie!" I yelled in exasperation.

"Sorry, bro," he countered, "its Hannah Montana time!"

I rolled my eyes, as Frankie turned the TV on, instantly switching to Disney. I groaned, closing my eyes as I heard the opening song come on.

"_You get the limo out front,  
Hottest styles, every shoe in every colour.  
Yeah, when you're famous it can be kind of fun—" _

I popped open one eye and watched her prance around stage. And to my horror, I realized I was singing along to the song!

Oh God, help me.

Dear Miley, why the hell do you keep haunting me?!

**A/N: Lol. Ok, I had fun writing this. No matter how stupid it might have been.  
I needed a break from studying… so I wrote this. **

**Alright, review. Please? Motivate me.**

**+ Remember, the NJK Awards has officially re-launched. Nominations are open now. Nominate your favourite stories before time runs out! :) And don't forget the 'Next Biggest Star' competition. Get your creative juices flowing! Haha. :D**


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